


Happenstance

by misomilk



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: During Canon, F/M, M/M, Post-Canon, mid adventure, oltheri, post adventure, therdelia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-04-05 22:00:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19049278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misomilk/pseuds/misomilk
Summary: Various Octopath Traveler drabbles, as practice for the exchange. Features different pairs (platonic and romantic), post- and during the eight's adventure.





	1. Ophilia & Alfyn; post-adventure

Ophilia stops her tracks at the sight of Alfyn. It’s been a few months since their journey ended and the eight parted ways. She never expected to see him again, yet here he is, standing in the snow, helping a little kid who had fallen on his face stand back up.

“You haven’t changed at all,” Ophilia approaches him, watches him dust the snow off his knees after he waves the little boy goodbye. She recognizes the shock on his face, heart melting at the smile that greets her. “It’s good to see you, Alfyn.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Ophilia.” He opens his arms wide and wraps her in a soft embrace. It surprises her, having forgone such physical contact in the months since she’d come back home. “Oh, sorry. Are you not supposed to do hugs around here?”

“No, it’s fine.” Ophilia shakes her head, Alfyn’s hands on her elbows, her hands on his chest. “Just a little surprised is all. It’s very nostalgic.” The two step away from each other, smiling. “But I’m afraid I must be going. I was on my way to a service.”

“Oh! Sorry about that.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Well, be on your merry, faithful way, Sister Ophilia.” He even bows to her, making her laugh.

“Please, Alfyn.” She shakes her head, her hand covering her mouth as she laughs at her friend’s unchanged humor. “Will I be seeing you around? I’d love to catch up and chat after?”

“Sure. I’ll be around a few days. I hear some kids have been getting pretty sick from the cold lately.”

“Indeed.” She nods her head, her face growing forlorn. That has been tough on her. If she had unlimited stamina she could keep healing the children for days. But her magic can only reach so deep, never enough to fully heal the children of whatever is causing their fever. This is truly where an apothecary must step in. “I’m happy you’re here to help us with this.”

“Of course. It’s mah job.” Alfyn grins. She nods in response.

“I will see you later, then.”

“Yeap. See you later, Oph.”

She walks to the church with renewed vigor. Her days since her return have been far less exciting than when she was traveling around the world. She misses the different landscapes, the new kinds of people she meets, the warm company of her friends. During service, she prays that more of her friends come to visit. They will always be welcome wherever she is.


	2. H'aanit-centric; mid-adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Food tastes better prepared by someone you love, and H'aanit realizes food prepared for people you love will taste amazing no matter what.

Many are the precious kinds of meat one can find in the woods, and H’aanit always prided herself in the ways she cooked even the toughest of meat tender, but never publicly. Her stomach rolls in a pit of nerves now, as she cooks for her companions, having set up camp in the woods that evening in the midst of traveling towards Victor’s Hollow.

Primrose sits next to her as she stirs stew within the pot. H’aanit watches her breathe in its scent, wafting off in a soft steam. “It smells amazing.”

She smiles at her, as loving as the dancer always charms her. She can leave it to her lover to distract her from the unnecessary pit in her stomach. “I can only hope it tastes as amazing.” 

“I’m sure it will.” Primrose leans in to press a soft kiss to her cheek. “I’m really happy you’re cooking for us. I’m so excited to taste it!” She claps her hands.

H’aanit stops stirring to look directly into Primrose’s eyes. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “And I’m thrilled to be given the honor of doing so.”

“Oh, you.” Primrose leans in one more time, this time pressing a soft kiss upon her lips, one that lasts longer than the previous. “Is it almost done?”

“Yes.” H’aanit nods. “Do you really think they will like this?”

“H’aanit, my dear, I know we will all love your cooking.”

H’annit smiles at her, Linde purring as if she’s read her heart. “Please alert the others it’s almost supper.”

“Alright.” Primrose gracefully walks away to join the others listening to Cyrus rambling facts about Victor’s Hollow. H’annit tilts her head at them. Were they listening? Perhaps dozing off.

“H’aanit!” calls Alfyn, rushing to her with herbs in his hands.

“Alfyn,” She frowns. “Finally, you are back. I hope you didn’t set off too far from camp. The campfire can protect us only so much.”

“I didn’t. I didn’t.” He chuckles, and presents to her the herbs. “I found some more of that herb you wanted.”

She gasps, eyes widening in surprise. “Oh, my friend. You didn’t have to go that far.”

“Aww, shucks. ‘Course I did. Anything for our resident hunter.” He laughs, fully pleased. She laughs with him. “I hope I made it back in time, though?”

“Just barely.” She makes a face to let the other know she’s only kidding, making Alfyn laugh. “Could you wash them for me, please?”

“Sure!”

After adding the last few bits of herbs, supper was ready. They all sat in their comfortable spaces, the boys by the large roots of a tree, the girls at logs surrounding the campfire.

“May the Sacred Flame grace this food we’re to partake.” says Ophilia, along with a bit more blessing. They’ve all learned through their journey together to wait for her to finish before starting. (Although Therion didn’t honor it at first.) “And thank you, dear H’aanit, for preparing this lovely dish for us.”

H’aanit, who sits nearest to the campfire should anyone want any seconds, looks around for their first impressions. They all almost made a pleased sigh altogether upon taking the first bite. H’aanit feels her heart grow warm, absolutely delighted to see the satisfaction in her friends’ faces.

“This is the tastiest meal I’ve ever had!” Tressa exclaims, swinging her feet excitedly. “I bet even the most expensive thing in those high-class restaurants I hear about wouldn’t amount to this.”

H’aanit smiles warmly at their youngest from across the fire. “Thank you, sweet Tressa.”

When H’aanit falls asleep that night, with Linde pressed at her back and Primrose within her arms, she sleeps almost instantly, her heart tenderly caressed by her friends’ positive words about her cooking. She realizes, maybe it isn’t so bad to cook for others after all.


	3. TherionxOlberic (hinted); mid-adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Therion tries to deal with his feelings, and Olberic doesn't make it any easier. NOTE: I make Therion call Olberic 'boss' because Therion sometimes calls Olberic “danna” in JP.

Therion sits on the bench, overlooking the river. Cool night air kisses his cheeks as a breeze flows by. He looks up at the moon, the one thing he used to rely on to light his path in the dark evenings he moved in stealth. Strange, how far he’s come now. He once reached a point he would only rely on his own hands, and whatever he can make of a situation. Yet now he travels with seven others, slowly making their way into his heart.

“Therion?” calls the deep voice of the man that’s made its way deeper into his heart than others’. Therion doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s Olberic approaching him.

He freezes his face expressionless, uninterested, feigning disinterest because it was the only way he knew he could protect himself. It’s helped him so far, ever since falling from the cliff.

Olberic approaches until he’s in the thief’s view, a bit towards the right, a small smile on his face. “May I sit with you?”

A roll of eyes and a shrug.  
 _There are a bunch of other empty benches, boss.  
Go back to your drinking party with Cyrus.  
Alfyn’ll start looking for you for another arm wrestle match.  
You’ll probably need to tuck Tressa into bed soon._

There are more than a couple of responses to reject such a simple question, but Therion finds he does not have it in him to say no, no matter how much he wants to. He looks up at the burly man, without his armor still has the obvious physique of a warrior, but the gentle aura of a simple man. Therion turns his gaze back to the river and shrugs his shoulders. “Sure.”

Olberic sits beside him, their thighs brushing from the closeness. Therion tries not to panic at the lack of distance, instead smoothly slides inches away from the warrior.

“Are you feeling alright?” Olberic says to him, his voice a sweet accompaniment to the sounds of the river. “You’ve had a bit to drink.”

Therion turns his head a little towards Olberic, and when he sees him looking at him, he prefers to look at the moonlight reflecting off the river instead. “Yeah, I’m alright.” He takes a deep breath. “The party still going?”

Olberic laughs softly, sending Therion’s stomach rolling pleasantly. “Indeed, it is. You know how Alfyn can get. Most times you’re there competing with him.”

“Heh,” Therion lets a smirk pull at his lips. “You mean most times I’m there beating him, one or two mugs more.”

“Hmm, there is that.” Olberic laughs again. What Therion would do to steal that magical sound and make it play for him forever. “And why aren’t you there beating him at drinking tonight?”

Therion shrugs again, leaning onto his left hand, head on his own shoulder. “Just wasn’t in the mood, I guess.”

“I see.”

Silence falls upon them. Therion starts off panicking, thinking up excuses for him to slip away. But as the seconds pass, he finds it gets more comfortable sitting here, listening to the river, watching the moonlight dance upon its surface. Besides, Olberic is right beside him, and when his heart isn’t busy alerting him of feelings he’d rather not name, Olberic is a warm, steady presence. He makes it so easy to rely on him, which is rather dangerous.

“Hey, boss.” Therion turns his face to the other.

“Yes?” Olberic turns his head downwards to him.

Therion tries not to squirm away from the taller’s direct gaze. “How come you came out here?” He starts to ramble when the other blinks in surprise. “It’s just-- I just thought, well, you usually stay at the bar until you’re off to sleep. Maybe you have something on your mind that you, uh,” Therion can feel his cheeks start to burn. What in the world is he saying? “Something you might want off your chest? Or head? Sorry, I don’t really know what I’m saying now.”

Olberic laughs again, but not a degrading one. The sound of it tickles the tips of Therion’s ears. “I came out here just to check on you, actually, but--” Therion tries not to listen to his own gut--shouting at him Run away. Now.--when Olberic leans a little closer toward him, smiling more gently than he ever had before. It sends Therion’s heart into a wild dance. “I do have something I want off my chest.”

Therion’s head starts to spin. He can feel the other’s breath on his lips. What. What!? What does he mean by that? “What do you--”

“Sir Olberic,” sounds Ophilia’s voice, the sound of the tavern’s door swinging closed following after her, shutting off the boisterous laughter from within.

“Yes, Ophilia?” Therion can sense Olberic turning towards her, leaving him the space to bury his burning face in his hands.

Therion doesn’t hear what they talk about, his own mind in a mess of panic. What was up with that distance--or the lack of it-- just then? What was Olberic about to say? And how could he have let someone come so close? Were they just about to...kiss? The thought of it makes him feel like smoke comes out of his ears as he tries to rub the burning on his cheeks away.

“Therion,” Olberic calls to him, waking him from his thoughts.

“Ye-yes! Yeah? What?” Therion turns to his right then his left, but Olberic is no longer there. He turns to his back, seeing Olberic standing there next to Ophilia.

“Apologies for leaving you. I have to help H’aanit carry--”

Ophilia softly gasps with a hand to her lips. “My deepest apologies. Were you two in the midst of discussing something?” 

Olberic nods. Therion shakes his head.

“It’s alright.” Therion says, not really sure if it really is alright or not. He looks at Ophilia, who looks really worried if she’d disrupted something. “I swear. It’s okay. Go ahead, back to the tavern. I’ll follow in a bit.”

“Alright. If you say so.” Ophilia nods at the thief with a relieved smile. She looks up at the warrior, who’s still looking down at Therion. “Sir Olberic?” 

Olberic locks eyes with Therion for a good short moment, then he nods to Ophilia. “Yes, let us go.”

Therion sits there, watching Olberic as he walks away. When Olberic turns back to look at him right before Ophilia could open the tavern door, he’s already pretending to look away. His heart continues to thunder in his chest even moments after he’s left alone. He looks up at the moon.

“What do I do?”


	4. TherionxCordelia; post-adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i needed a break from writing my Exchange fic so here. Therdelia is so ADORABLE. god i'm so glad to be writing them, though sometimes I feel like I get too carried away with how much I make Cordelia flustered. I like to think she's a strong girl, yes, with what she's experienced. But I love imagining the gap between 1) Strong, Independent Lady of Ravus and 2) her not knowing how to deal with her own Romantic feelings, which are quite different from the simple fondness she felt before.
> 
> and dont get me started on Therion be like FEELINGS......!?!?!? which rly, i love getting it explored with whomever he gets paired with LOL
> 
> god  
> i love octopath

Therion's eyes flutter open, taking him away from his short nap, adjusting his gaze to the bright afternoon sun beyond the shade of the tree he's sat under. Squinting his eyes, he tries to remember what it was he was doing here, sleeping against a tree, but before such thoughts could manifest, he notices the soft weight against his left, preventing him from trying to roll his shoulders. It was Cordelia, snoozing, her head laid upon his shoulder.

He feels his breath stop for a moment, surprised by how close she was, and in the next breath he takes he can smell her sweet scent, soothing lavender with a hint of rose. She'd always smelled nice, above all comforting. He doesn't notice himself pulling his face closer to the top of her head, his lips softly pressing upon her hair.

She shuffles then, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. Therion's muscles stiffen, careful not to wake her, and only when her breath resumes its soft, peaceful puffs does he relax.

He sighs, mentally slapping himself. Therion had allowed himself relax too much, so much so that he fell asleep around her, cradled by the Lady's presence. But what else could he do? It's difficult enough not to let his heart fall from his chest, ready to present itself to her to soak in her light. He's different around her, he knows, in ways Alfyn or Tressa or Primrose would delight in despite his misery. And though he tries to cool himself, re-raise his walls, give her the cold shoulder, he can no longer do it. Not to Cordelia.

So instead, he gives in, letting his head fall slightly against soft strands of gold. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and drinks in her sweet scent that makes him feel like nothing could go wrong in the world. When he feels her hand fall from her lap, he takes her small fingers in his, entangling them, resting underneath the cool shade of the tree.

***

"H--Heathcote," Cordelia harumphs, her hands to her face, red as an apple. "Why oh why did you not wake me?"

"My Lady," Heathcote bows slightly, a smile on his face. "You and Therion both seemed terribly tired, so I thought it would do you best to remain asleep under--"

"Oooohh," Cordelia paces back and forth, round and round her manor's lobby. "Goodness, me."

"Whatever is the matter, my Lady?"

Cordelia looks to Heathcote and remembers without even trying. How she felt warmth against her as she slept, soft lips on the tip of her head, and how close Therion's face had been to hers the moment she woke up. In her flustered fury, all she could do was slam his face with her hand and run away.

Of all things, what she found most embarrassing how she thought she should kiss her sleeping noble thief awake.

With a stomp, Cordelia declares she is off to her room, where she writes her feelings away, but taking note how nice it felt to be against Therion. It's one thing she hopes to never forget.


End file.
